


but you and i we burn like a fire

by ch3nracha



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, American setting, Angst and Feels, Bang Chan is Called Chris, Bottom Lee Felix (Stray Kids), Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Praise Kink, Rivalry, Secret Relationship, Size Kink, There is a Difference, Top Bang Chan, lapslock, no beta we die like men, swim club captain!felix, swim team captain!chris, the use of the word pool is abused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28181235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch3nracha/pseuds/ch3nracha
Summary: loud and treacherous and. and. there’s no time to think, not when a siren’s blaring and they’re trapped and the voices outside are closing in and in until — “okay. now we’re fucked,” felix breathes. and they are, they so are because,“lee felix.”there, in the doorway is, “christopher bang. what a coincidence.”(or: rival swim captains chris and felix have more than just hatred burning between them behind closed doors)
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix
Comments: 32
Kudos: 202





	but you and i we burn like a fire

**Author's Note:**

> ♡ this story has been sitting in my drafts for months going through numerous rewrites but i’m at a point now where i’m satisfied with it so i decided to post the first chapter before i wussed out lol
> 
> ♡ the number of chapters is still undecided, 6 is an estimate for what i have planned but it could be subject to change. uploads will be saturdays 
> 
> ♡ title from the song alone by lund

felix thinks they’ll get away with it — dying the school’s gymnasium pool. 

the sleeves of his sweatshirt are rolled back to the elbow, wrist-deep in temperature-controlled water, counting two, three more bottles before he’s out, watching the last of the dye dissolve and disperse within the chlorine. 

he pulls his arm out, smiling when he notices his skin is faintly stained. watches droplets roll off his fingertips to splatter against the twelve foot tile marker beneath the rubber sole of his swim shoe before he passes the empty food coloring containers to hyunjin who’s trashing them as they go. 

felix looks to his right, towards the analog clock hung above the high dive board to confirm that, yes, they have time (even if they are cutting it stupidly close) then to his left, towards jeongin who they have currently standing in the doorway between the men’s locker room and pool, acting as lookout. 

it’s become a _thing_ — pranking the ucla men’s swim team. has been since felix founded the swim club the summer before last semester. it’s a club sport, i.e a student-run program — in this case felix and hyunjin, captain and co-captain respectively — that receives little financial aid from the university, enough that just covers the cost to rent the pool for private practices. 

or, as seungmin had phrased it, “they get money thrown at them, meanwhile we get six crumpled up ones and a half-eaten pb&j uncrustable.”

and, maybe felix is only slightly bitter about being rejected back when he tried out for the team himself. only slightly. it had also been the summer before last semester, the reason as to why this club exists, why he’s spending his time (and by extension hyunjin and jeongin’s) poolside dying an olympic size swimming pool with drugstore food coloring, tired and blue-knuckled. 

on a saturday. at 7am. with 150 now empty containers. 

seungmin had been the one to do the math, handed the equation to him while he — felix sleepily chewed through a poppyseed muffin, half-lidded and yawning around his pastry during a particularly boring lecture about rocks. it’s one of the graduation requirements to meet the general education credit, something felix didn’t choose so — he's indifferent. 

he’d quietly explained how he calculated the milliliters of liquid needed to dilute the cubic volume of a pool among other factors felix didn’t understand nor ask to. 

seungmin had clapped him on the shoulder then, requested felix to “pour one out for me,” and went back to taking notes. studious, diligent. he would have come, usually does considering he’s their self-appointed sports manager, has been since the club’s conception, but he’d just recovered from a cold and had fallen behind on schoolwork over the last 72 hours so he’s holed himself up in his dorm with instant ramen cups and a bag of shitty convenience store coffee grounds, hot plate plugged into the outlet by his bedside 25/8.

and maybe, just _maybe_ he’s being petty. it’s the coach who rejected him, who said he didn’t make the cut because his butterfly stroke was sloppy and his lap speed too slow, the athletes on the swim team victims to felix’s bruised ego but, still. _still_. he’s (only slightly) bitter and hurt and resentful so — he dyes the pool. 

it’s not like it’s one-sided either, the pranks are reciprocated too. _this_ is payback, payback for the swim team blacking out the inside of their goggles the wednesday before last, hyunjin almost murdering his head on the cement floor swan diving into the water and jisung’s ankle catching on a plastic lane divider, floundering like a fish caught on a line as a result.

admittedly, this one is lose-lose. while the university does well to maintain the campus infrastructure it’s anyone’s guess how long it’ll take to filter out 132 ounces of cheap drug store dye, a factor that strong armed felix into deciding they would skip out on reserving the pool for practice this week. 

they can’t afford to waste the club’s budget by having the pool cordoned off when word of this inevitably reaches campus administration, a guarantee considering there’ll be a team of collegiate athletes dyed bluer than the color blocks sewn into their matching varsity tracksuits walking around amongst the student population. 

and that — for felix? totally worth it.

hyunjin yawns, drawn-out and groggy and jeongin parrots it, quick to mask his hand with his palm to try and muffle the noise, something that has guilt ballooning in felix’s chest, knowing they’re only here because he asked them to be, would be in bed or studying otherwise. 

he himself has an upcoming winter showcase he’s yet to finalize the choreo for, still ironing out the kinks with his ensemble; a paper he’s yet to write covering the seven movements of dance for his dance theory class due by this week’s end, and an overflow of laundry he’s been neglecting to wash. 

the sweatshirt he’s wearing now is turned inside out, slipped it on over his finger-combed hair after having passed the sniff test. the inside tag clipped so it’s not so obvious. he really should do his laundry. 

jeongin screeches, loud and shrill and unexpected, like a prison or guarded facility sounding the alarm, startling the other two into moving. it’s a forewarning that the team is coming down the corridor, voices rising in volume the closer they get and, faintly, “did you guys hear that? what the fuck was _that_?” 

which — they themselves never decided on a signal when they went over the plan so, _yeah_. what the fuck is right.

felix nearly slips on the wet cement in his attempt to stand, clings to one of the metal legs supporting the diving board overhead as hyunjin shoulders the garbage bag, plastic stretched taut over the bottles inside, leading them towards the far back. 

they’d gone over the plan for the umpteenth time when they first met up outside of the pool house, when the lazy rays of the sun had just begun to crest over the horizon, oranges and purples and pinks bleeding into the sky like an oil painting.

there are two doors: the one they came through and a side-exit in a neighboring room, the one they’re rushing to. hyunjin had scoped it out a few days back and sure, they’ve been in the pool house a thousand times but felix is thorough. paranoid. 

so hyunjin went, returned to the dorms after close to an hour with an ice coffee in hand, mapped out their escape route while they were huddled on jeongin’s bed, watching reruns of rick and morty on his laptop, signed into their shared hulu account.

jeongin bypasses the vending machines, the locked equipment closet, a stray mop bucket, to press the flat of his palms against the door and pushes, pushes, pushes but. it doesn’t budge.

“It won’t open,” jeongin hisses, panic rounding out his eyes as he looks between them, the swim team close enough they can hear their voices bouncing off the walls, talking about the training they did during their brief off-season, then someone asks, “do we need anything from the equipment closet? fins? kickboard?” 

_fuck_.

“you just,” felix pauses, removes his shoes to avoid the wet squelch of rubber against tile and possibly alert the guys nearby before he’s dropping his shoulder to push at the door, next to jeongin’s persistent hands, “just have to throw your weight into it.” 

that weight being a combined 120kg between him and jeongin so they push and push and push but — it doesn’t move, doesn’t even give an inch.

the soles of felix’s bare feet slide out from under him, sinking down, down, down until his ass is flat on the damp floor. tilts his chin back, head smacking against the door, a dull thud echoing off the metal, to stare up at jeongin, mirroring the other’s visible panic. this _cannot_ be happening. 

it’s hyunjin who says a quiet, “guys,” while pointing to their right; redirecting felix and jeongin’s line of sight so they can see it too. a sign scotch-taped to the wall. 

‘out of order. latch broken.’

jeongin whines, high-pitched and anxious, like an air horn low on gas, “c’mon, that’s gotta be violating at least like four safety codes.”

someone in the other room suggests they skip resistance training, go easy and save their energy for their big swim meet against stanbridge this friday, their first match of the fall season. they unilaterally agree before there’s a whistle blowing, then splashing. practice has started.

felix relaxes a little, sags against the tile, inhales two, three times to calm his twitchy nerves. they’re deep within enemy territory; restless, cornered but — alive, for now. felix presses two fingers against his neck, against his rabbit-quick pulse to confirm it, waits until it slows some before he drops his arm into his lap.

it’s a gamble, pulling pranks: high-risk, high-reward. getting caught is always a factor, a statistic they’re aware of, reminded of whenever seungmin is with them, but it’s not a scenario they’re prepared for, not entirely. 

yeah they have a successful track record, always in and out but — anonymity doesn’t exist, the team knows they’re doing it, ergo the retaliation, but they’ve never been caught, not in the act. 

he doesn’t fear the repercussions, knows they’ll just pull another dumb prank back but it’d be so fucking embarrassing, a knock to his confidence which he really doesn’t need right now.

“we’re not screwed guys — not yet. they have the pool reserved until 9:30, we can wait it out until then and leave through the main door while they’re showering,” felix proposes, looking between them. 

hyunjin and jeongin nod. they’re reliable, adaptable. well, hyunjin reported no problems when he briefed felix two days ago following his reconnaissance mission. cost felix 15 lunch tokens and a _groovie smoothie_ card two punches away from a free medium for his intel. 

now it’s backfired and they’re cornered and he was looking forward to that free smoothie. he tucks that thought away for later, when he chews hyunjin out for this massive fucking oversight in the dorms later tonight.

five, ten, fifteen minutes pass without incident. jeongin’s at ease, glued to his phone, playing animal crossing pocket camp, a little pouty since felix told him it’d be too dicey to play with his in-game music on any setting other than mute. it’s probably fine but felix isn’t feeling lucky enough to gamble on it.

and then there’s hyunjin who’s losing his god damn mind since he’d forgotten his phone on the charger of his nightstand, head tucked between his knees, impatient and bored and fidgety. felix goes to open his mouth to ask about the busted door, restlessness having begun to blossom in his own chest.

then someone shouts, _“why the fuck am I blue?! wait — why the fuck are you blue?!”_

everything descends into chaos after that, like a rube goldberg contraption from hell.

hyunjin jolts, having started to doze off in the subdued atmosphere, and the trash bag he’s still shouldering snags on the empty mop bucket behind him and the plastic _riiiips_ wide open. jeongin jumps and drops his phone in surprise, losing his footing when he slips back on the minefield of scattered containers around him, arms pinwheeling out as he falls, falls, falls backwards into the emergency exit. the exit they’d avoided entirely because

the alarm goes off.

loud and treacherous and. _and_. there’s no time to think, not when a siren’s blaring and they’re trapped and the voices outside are closing in and in until — “okay. now we’re fucked,” felix breathes. and they are, they so are because,

“lee felix.”

there, in the doorway is, “christopher bang. what a coincidence.”

he scoffs, “is it really, lee?,” squints his eyes to downsize him, “seeing as the practice schedule is posted on the school’s website and to the door of this building i have a _really_ hard time believing you.”

chris is standing in the doorway with his shoulders squared, arms crossed over his chest, and his expression worn stern, radiating all the authority of a team captain. the rest of the team are right behind him. wet. blue. 

well, blue except for the skin-toned imprint around their eyes where their goggles had been suctioned to their faces. 

in spite of his heart slamming against his sternum like a battering ram, hard enough it might crack in two, felix grins, amused. the mission might have been a bust but it’s not a total bust, the swim team _is_ blue. it’s a small detail felix allows himself to find fleeting enjoyment in, if only to ice the embarrassment burning through him.

“what’s with the new look? are they filming avatar 2?” 

chris ignores his lame joke, focuses on them, zeroes in on him. gestures to the scattered trash with a casual sweep of his arm, the blue dye richer in areas where his skin creases and folds, highlighting lean muscle and unshaven body hair. felix ignores that.

“you’re really gonna try and play dumb right now, lee? when the evidence is right here? diluting the pool is tampering with campus property. an infraction punishable by club suspension up to termination.”

felix runs his tongue flat over his teeth, an attempt to suppress the hot blush rising to his cheeks. chris has him there; not that he’s going to tell him of all people that. 

chris knows it too by the way his head is slanted to the side with his eyebrow raised at the point where the hair is cleanly split. cocky. but felix refuses to submit, not in front of everyone. never has, never will. so he crosses his arms and sets his jaw, narrow-eyed and glaring. defiant, petulant.

if lee felix is anything it’s stubborn. 

and chris knows that first hand. pushes forward without a reply, lets the arrogant smile slip, face morphing into something more serious.

“vandalism. trespassing. interfering with official university business. actions have consequences you know, and i know you know lee; it’s right there in the student handbook that i know you’ve read.”

“maybe if you spent more time reading and less time roiding out you wouldn’t be so empty between the ears bang.” 

“maybe if you hit the pool more you wouldn’t be such a weak ass swimmer. how’s the butterfly stroke? still sloppy?” chris taunts. low blow. half his team laugh, probably recalling tryouts.

felix bristles. even more so knowing chris is only saying it to get under his skin. and he is, he so is. the irritation and oversensitivity needling him like a deeply wedged splinter, a familiar sense of humiliation seeping in through the cracks in his exterior. 

“i honestly find the blue an improvement bang. at least now you look about as dumb as you and your pack of neanderthals act. how’s your sex life? still dry?”

everyone, emergency alarm included, falls silent. watching chris to see what he’ll do, to see if he and felix will rip each other apart like they always seem so close to doing. 

chris stares him down, arms folded over his bare chest as he leans against the open door frame and felix tries not to get crushed underneath the weight of it. 

the vending machines grumble next to them while the ventilators hum mutedly overheard and the harsh fluorescent lights softly buzz. a cacophony of small noises all amplified by the tense quiet. 

minho, who’s standing behind on chris’ right, suggests, “i think they should go for a swim.”

his stance is similar to chris’s. also, blue. he looks between hyunjin and felix, the elder of the two visibly alarmed by the idea of being thrown into the pool, absently gripping his long blond hair.

the trio are acquainted through dance class and often grouped together for showcases. they’re all friendly; take turns buying coffee before the start of every practice, usually minho per his employee discount, and coordinate schedules and concepts and outfits through their group chat. 

that said, one of them is always on the receiving end of a prank whenever either party retaliates; collateral damage in a self-imposed war they’ve been gridlocked in for months now. it’s something they don’t talk about during their weekly meetups — the pranks. 

only ask each other about classes and pets and friday night plans because it’s easy to ignore everything else while they do warm up stretches on the floor of the university’s dance studio. but this? the blue skin. that’ll be pretty hard to ignore. 

there’s a collective hum; the acoustics causing it to swell and echo throughout the pool house. hyunjin and jeongin fidget on either side of felix, probably weighing their options — as limited as they are. 

neither of them say anything, a decision felix isn’t surprised by. felix is the ringleader so felix is the mouthpiece. 

felix is quick to bite, “i think we should call it a draw after the last stunt you boneheads pulled, hyunjin sprained a muscle in his neck and jisung nearly drowned,” and hopes chris doesn’t see the nervous swallow of his adam’s apple because chris seems to notice everything about him, like felix is a mosaic of stain glass that only he can see. transparent, see-through.

it’s infuriating. 

he’s infuriating.

chris pushes off the wall then, pocketing his hands into his waterlogged swim trunks, the nylon material sagging against his bare (blue) thighs. he smiles, soft yet smug, head still cocked to the right. casual, mocking. 

felix has to school his face while trying to extinguish the hot coals of agitation stoking inside his belly. it’s difficult. _chris_ is difficult. difficult because felix is easy to read but chris isn’t. difficult because felix can’t pick chris’ brain no matter how much he tries. no matter how much he wants. 

“and let you go, consequence free? i could but — i won’t. not you at least lee,” chris says, watching him. 

“and why is that?”

“why?” chris asks, the monosyllable rolling off his tongue like it’s foreign, his eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead, bridged together in a confused pinch, “you can drop the innocent act lee, it’s not gonna save your sorry ass.”

felix knows he, and hyunjin and jeongin by extension, are up a creek without a paddle. there’s two outcomes he can see unfold from here and both are grim, both end with them in the pool. so felix plays the last card they have — he stalls. 

“you know bang, i’m beginning to think you’re obsessed with me.” 

“in your dreams kid, just like your shot at being on ucla’s swim team.” 

felix’s anger boils over, his cheeks up to his ears steamed pink, “it’s weird that you’re this hotshot-big-man-on-campus-shitty-teen-movie stereotype but you’ve been single since you enrolled here and you’re what, a junior now? the roids giving you performance anxiety christopher?”

what intimidates felix about chris isn’t his muscle mass that dwarfs felix in comparison despite being like 3 centimeters taller, or the confidence he quietly radiates, only really brash about his academic and athletic achievements when he’s arguing with felix around campus. it’s his unpredictability. 

the way his demeanor switches, so rapidly it gives felix internal whiplash, always catches him off guard whenever it happens and considering how far felix likes to push him it happens quite often. 

despite chris in all his dumb jock glory he’s pretty even-tempered, usually laughs everything off with a dimpled, open-mouthed chuckle and an “okay bro” or “whatever bro” but felix knows which buttons to press to set him off. to make him _mean_.

chris steps forward. felix steps back. chris takes another step forward. felix takes another step back. 

forward. 

back. 

forward.

back.

“you guys can grab the other two,” chris says, directs it towards his teammates but doesn’t take his eyes off felix, staring at him, _through_ him, with a pointed glare. _predatory_. “i’ll take care of lee here.”

it’s hyunjin who bolts first. drops the ripped trash bag he’s still holding onto the floor and books it through the open door of the emergency exit without a backward glance, minho and changbin quick to follow after him, hot on his heels.

felix back steps, pivots his ankle to make a run for it but the arch of his foot catches on an empty dye bottle and he’s nosediving forwards, sticks his arms out to break his fall, bare knees peeking out through the frayed rips in his jeans colliding painfully with the wet floor. fuck that’s going to swell. 

a shadow falls over him, chris’s broad back eclipsing the wide ceiling lights as he closes in for the kill, his hands wet and large and bruising around felix’s hips when he grabs him and felix’s mind goes blank, cognitive server: offline.

he absolutely doesn’t dwell on how easy it is for chris to haul him up and over his shoulder like he weighs next to nothing or the hand that fans out across his back, just above his tailbone. instead he squirms, tries to be as uncooperative as he can in chris’s captive hold, hopes chris will drop him so he can get a do-over on the whole running away thing again. 

it doesn’t work. felix’s strategy to thrash around and punch at chris’s thighs, his calves, anywhere he can reach proves ineffective as chris ducks through the open doorframe and walks them back to where the pool is. cold, composed.

just as they bypass the water changbin wrestles hyunjin back inside, an arm under each of hyunjin’s, hands behind hyunjin’s neck with his fingers loosely steepled together in a half nelson, dragging him towards it. 

he doesn’t see it but he hears it, the expletive screams (“fucking — let go of me short stack!” and “i swear to god if i have to re-bleach my hair i’ll put nair in your fucking swim cap!”) then the subsequent splashes, a kamikaze move changbin pulls that has them both falling sideways into the pool.

there are towels lying everywhere, left forgotten on the anti-slip concrete floor, blue splotches dyed into the white cotton from everyone wiping themselves down, trying to scrub the color off their skin before it could set. 

must’ve been a letdown when that fell through felix thinks, a haughty smirk crossing his face. it’s a dumb thing to fixate on but felix is a dead man walking so he’s going to let himself have this one. 

to his relief chris doesn’t throw him into the diluted water nor does he try to stop and explain to everyone where he’s going with felix when his teammates, who’re all standing poolside, now drip-dried and dyed, ask.

to his confusion chris doesn’t put him down, just ducks through the other doorway towards the main entrance, forearm squeezing around his waist to secure him against his shoulder like he’s an inanimate object, holding him tighter than he had been before. 

and to his joy when chris does let him down it’s to pin him back to the wall, cages both of his thin wrists in one palm and holds them over his head, the other one squeezing his waist, taking in his oversized sweatshirt by a few inches, fabric folding over the back of his his hand, fingers roughly digging into the jut of his hip.

“what’re you going to do with me bang?”

chris is staring him down, pupils blown wide and black, like a shark mid feeding frenzy, “i have a few ideas swimming around.”

felix can feel the yellow construction paper and blue brush strokes painted on a student banner hung in the hallway, advertising the swim team’s upcoming match against stanbridge and _‘go bruins! fighting blue!’_ ironic. he’s flattened against it, sign crinkling beneath his excited weight. 

“you gonna spank me then, captain?” felix taunts, sarcastic. brings his chin in towards his chest, rounds his eyes out and bats his lashes, face the look of faux innocence. the shaky exhale and little wobble in his knees the only give away he’s affected. 

“you’re such a fucking brat,” chris whispers, nose tucked up behind his ear, breath hot, familiar, moisture clinging to his skin. he coils his tongue around felix’s singular earring and bites, pulls it down with his teeth before he lets it spring back like a rubber band, earlobe and jewelry wet with spit. felix shivers, aroused.

“but you already know that don't you, lee?”

then chris is all over him. 

he presses sloppy wet kisses to his mouth, his jaw, licks his way down the pretty, freckled stretch of his throat until he has to pull the high scoop neck of his sweatshirt down to get to more skin, teeth scraping over his bony clavicle. felix mindlessly bites his hood to stifle a lewd, breathy moan and chris tenses, his hold on felix tightening like a vice.

felix lets it momentarily cloud his judgment, fingernails scratching at chris’s slippery wet shoulders, struggling to get a good grip on him as chris crushes him against the wall. chris is always a lot. mouth and hands on him, anywhere he can reach, only detaching himself when they’re undressing each other or grabbing lube.

“bang — chris wait,” felix groans, uneven and breathy, trying to wrangle in his thoughts so he doesn’t just go limp in chris’s arms, faces so close they’re inhaling the other’s heavy exhale. chris’s pretty lashes graze his cheek, “what if someone sees us?”

“then i’ll tell them to piss off and mind their business,” chris growls, mouth latching onto his shoulder like a blood-sucking leech, almost breaking the skin but careful to avoid doing so.

let’s up before it can bruise too dark or draw any blood because they both know they can’t leave anything incriminating behind, not with the season getting ready to start and how revealing the swimsuits they have to wear for the meets are. 

speedos do a piss poor job of concealing anything.

chris moves his head back up, lips hiking higher and higher until he’s splicing his tongue between felix’s kiss-swollen lips, resuming the wet slick and slide into each other’s mouths. 

they can’t go to chris’s dorm, not without raising more than a few eyebrows at least. it’s on the opposite side of ucla’s 419-acre campus and the foot traffic is heavy this time in the morning before classes. felix’s is also a no go. shares a triple occupancy room with jisung and seungmin, one of whom are always around thanks to their drastically different schedules.

ultimately, chris reaches behind him for the knob of the utility closet door and jiggles it, relief washing over his face when it gives way, unlocked, quick to walk them inside, to walk _felix_ inside, hands on his hips, bare chest pushing him back through the open doorframe.

it’s cramped. smells like ammonia and lemon pledge and dirty old mop water. a single lightbulb hangs from above, plain and utilitarian in design. it’s not ideal, a janitorial closet in an administration building not exactly on his list of go to hookup spots but — felix doesn’t care. 

how can he when chris crowds him again, flipping him around, fingers twisting into his bleach-fried hair to roughly pull his head sideways, sweat-damp cheek squished to the door? 

“not so mouthy now are we, little one?” chris says it next to his ear, one hand locking the door while the other yanks the hem of felix’s sweatshirt up to his shoulder blades and felix trembles, knees going weak and strange. 

chris reattaches his lips to his sunburn-tanned back, right by his armpit. it’s a place chris revisits often, tries to suck a red mark into his skin whenever he gets the chance to because according to him there’s a supercluster of pretty freckles sitting there and he knows it’ll fade by the morning so _‘let me bite them baby, always taste so sweet.’_

felix pulls his sweatshirt off by the hood of his stretched out collar then drops it on the unswept floor, letting chris trace mindless patterns into his flushed skin. the door he’s leaning his body on feels nice, good. his nipples graze the cool wood and a chill shudders through him, goosebumps breaking out over his torso and arms, whimpering prettily.

chris runs a cold palm up his spine, rough enough felix’s chest is pushed forward, flattened to the door, then chris is falling onto his knees behind him, teasing his fingers along the waistband of felix’s acid-washed skinnies. 

he doesn’t tease long, aware they’re in a semi-public area and could be caught at any moment; by one of chris’s teammates or felix’s friends or a janitor maybe so chris works his hands around his tiny waist to pop the button on his jeans and yank the zipper down. 

he hooks his fingers into the belt loops on either of his hips and shimmies them down to felix’s ankles; the friction it creates as the denim drags over his shaky thighs down to his shins strikes a spark that simmers low and hot in his belly.

“what, no underwear?” felix hears the smile in chris’s voice, feels his mouth latch onto his thigh, licking over the red dental imprint afterwards, “were you hoping to get caught then little one? that desperate for me to touch your cute little body? y’know you just haveta ask.” 

felix grounds himself before he can get too spacey, long enough he formulates a response, opens his mouth to say it when, without warning, chris licks against him, hot and wet and all over his rim. felix almost buckles right there. 

he rests his forearms above his head to stabilize his wobbly weight and groans, drawn-out and breathy, looking down at the floor, through a hazy film of lust, toes curling over the worn in-soles of his converse, “chris, _fuck_.”

there’s no ease into it. chris doesn’t circle around him nice and slow and careful as per usual, instead he’s spreading him wide and licking flat, his tongue probing against him, wiggling _into_ him, and felix is: overwhelmed. 

chris shallowly fucks him open with his tongue, nails biting into his hips to steady him, digging in deeper when felix keens or babbles, things like: “your tongue — _how_?!” and “fuck you always eat me out so good bro.”

his tongue goes deep enough he brushes up against felix’s prostate and felix’s legs really do give out on him but chris is quick to catch him, steadies him while he draws back a little, just out of reach and felix whines so desperate and pathetic to be speared by his tongue again it has chris cooing, kissing all over his thighs and ass. 

“shhh patience little one,” chris whispers. gets to his feet and runs his palms up and down felix’s sides, once, twice, three times before he settles them on his abdomen, sliding one palm up his chest to tweak his nipple, ripping a shiver out of him.

“i’ll give you what you want, even if you _really_ don’t deserve it after the shit you pulled today. d’ya think you deserve it baby? be honest.”

felix knows chris wants him to beg, to degrade himself for chris as an act of utter submission. reduced to tears and watery hiccups and pleas, asking chris to spare him between desperate, dry sobs, to take pity and just give it to felix already. 

but chris likes to pluck him apart like he’s depetaling a flower, able to stretch it out no matter how low they are on time so felix gives, whines out, “yes, a-ah! _no_. but chris puh-please. please just. _just_. jesus i don’t know, please — do something, _anything_. your little one wants to come.”

chris is rough when he turns him around, helps him step of his jeans while he holds his shoulders for balance, hooks an arm under each of his thighs to hoist him up and reposition him with his back against the door, ankles crossing tightly behind chris’s back to lock himself in place.

chris traces felix’s heart-curved lip with his thumb, watches felix through narrowed eyes as he opens wide to swallow it down, mouth suctioning around it up to the third knuckle. 

moves his thumb in and out, slow and shallow, pressing down on felix’s tongue to gather more spit, letting it pool into the webspace of skin connecting his thumb to his index finger. 

“just look at you,” chris hums, words punctuated by the wet squelch of his thumb and the other fingers he fits in to fuck into his warm mouth, cheeks sucked in to make it tighter, hotter, “always so pretty and drooly for me hm?”

chris pulls his fingers out, collapsing the spit bridged between them and felix’s lower lip, his chin slick and shiny with it. drags them down felix’s rib cage to his inner thigh, following the curve of his pelvic bone over his hip, painting a wet trail over his asscheek to circle him slowly.

felix keens, relaxes the muscles in his neck to drain the tension and lets his head smack the wood behind it, arousal overriding the dull ache that blooms through his scalp so he can nod, desperate and clumsy. swallows the knot in his throat to whimper out, “yuh-yeah, pretty. so pretty for you.”

the first finger slides in with ease, so close to where felix wants it but not quite, misses by a fraction of an inch, probably intentional. felix whines, petulant and needy, tries to push his hips down but chris has a hand over his stomach to keep him there. 

he adds another on the slide upwards and pulls his spit-lubed fingers apart, nips at felix’s throat and growls when felix moans at the stretch, mouth wide open and eyes glued shut, the lightbulb above accentuating his fluttery lashes, casting spidery shadows across his pretty, freckled cheekbones.

chris kisses along his slack mouth, three fingers in by the time he removes them entirely, nudges his soggy shorts down to his knees then holds a shaky thigh in each hand and situates felix over his erect cock. “ready gorgeous?”

“mmm,” felix nods. 

pries his eyes open to stare at chris as he penetrates him, knows from experience how hot he looks whenever he does, so hot felix feels all the water in his body evaporate. only now, even through the veil of horniness, felix notes, chris is blue. 

the amusement is short lived, snuffed out as soon as chris lets his legs go and let's gravity weigh him down long enough to bottom out. his hip flexors burn, reminds him of the warm up stretches he does on the floor of the dance studio or over the wall-mounted support rail in ballet. 

“yeah?” chris teases, bites at his jaw again, a weak spot that chris exploits any time they’re able to meet up and fuck in secret. 

which — lately, had been pretty often considering they’re just coming off of summer, between swim seasons and school years, the dorms empty with everyone but them and their home for the two-month break. 

(something that’s now sadly tapered off with classes resuming. having to resort to shit like fucking in a broom closet or in the backseat of chris’s used corolla, usually in the mall parking lot, poorly concealed by trees and the reflective windshield sunshade chris puts up. they’ve almost been caught by campus security. twice.) 

chris spreads his legs and sinks in deeper, the crown of his cock grazing against his pelvic bone he’s _that_ far in, provoking a moan out of them both. takes a few minutes to adjust before felix tries to roll his hips, still pinned to the door, within chris’s strong grip. he twitches his feet impatiently.

soon enough chris is moving, fucking breathy little ah, ah, ah’s out of him, back sliding up and down the door, aided by the thin layer of sweat sticking to his skin, repeatedly punching whiny moans and breathy whimpers out of him on each upward thrust. 

felix loves it like this, slow yet rough, whenever chris fucks up hard and lazily draws his hips back, stretched out around his thick cock, reaching parts inside of felix his fingers can’t. that other guys haven’t. and fuck if it doesn’t leave felix trembling, limbs shaky and orgasm-heavy.

“god, you’re so pretty,” chris groans, pressing sloppy wet kisses down felix’s neck, “so good and so gorgeous and _all_ for me.”

“all for you,” felix parrots. hands all over chris’s neck, his back, fingers raking down his spine to his ass, scratching nail-thin crossroads into him, skin raised and red. they’ll fade by tomorrow, probably.

“y’know,” chris starts, conversational. lets felix’s sides go and presses forward, pushing him flatter, minimizing the gap so he doesn’t slip, forearm now resting on the wall by his head. 

“i don’t know if i should let you come. you did cut our practice short. dyed the pool — and me, blue. and still got me to fuck you afterwards. if you ask me, maybe i should leave you in here all fucked out and hard. maybe i should stop.”

then chris _does_ , draws his hips back until his cock is nearly unsheathed, head caught on felix’s rim, extra tight around him to keep what’s still in him, in. 

tears are kissing his eyes, shaky as he begs, “nononono you can’t. i’m good. i’m being good right now. i’ll — please i’ll do whatever you want just. whatever you do just. don’t. stop.”

without warning chris angles his hips and drives his cock directly into felix’s prostate. felix sobs, sensitive. cries, “ch— _nnngh_ , chris! holy shit _there_ , right there, fuuuuck” and grinds himself back on chris, chris grabbing him hard enough he might bruise. 

oops.

the pace chris sets is brutal. fucking him with a frenetic sort of energy that has felix clinging to him, lower back catching on the doorknob every time he moves, up or down, just shy of painful. between the whispered filth and praises: how good he is, how good he _feels_ , always so tight and warm and needy the muscles in his lower abdomen spasm and he comes, going boneless in chris’s arms. 

chris thrusts two, three more times before he shoves in all the way and comes, grunting felix’s name. his hips shuddering against felix’s ass to milk his cock dry, face pinching then smoothing out, all tension draining from his body. eyes half-lidded. dazed. flushed down to his chest. beautiful. 

once their breathing is under control, chris noses behind his ear, fingers coming up to comb felix’s bleach-fried hair back, away from his sweaty hairline, bangs clumping together. it’s soft. chris is always soft following their hookups. whether they’re quickies (see: now) or an entire night spent alone. 

chris grabs a roll of paper towels off a nearby shelf, joking about the ‘unexpected pragmatism’ of a utility closet and ‘6/10, would probably do it in here again.’ quietly watches as chris takes his time cleaning him up, gentle to wipe him down so he doesn’t rub his skin raw. draws small, comforting circles into his hip while he does, knows how touchy felix can be. 

it’s easy to pretend like this. like the attention chris gives him is special. that he’s doing this because he wants to. handles him with so much care and fragility it has felix wondering if chris wants it too. more. thinks he sees that same warmth returned in chris’s eyes whenever he looks at him. it’s a fantasy he could buy, and one that he longs for. allows himself to for a brief, fleeting moment before he lets it go. before the ache can set in.

“uh. thanks,” felix says, now standing an awkward few inches away from chris, yanking his jeans up to rebutton and zip them. “for not throwing me in the pool and, you know, _this_.” 

“this?” chris teases, tongue-in-cheek. 

felix breathes a, “shut up,” then turns around to hide the way his face pinks, all the way up to his ears, slipping his sweatshirt on over his fucked out hair, trying to finger comb the flyaways, somewhat flatten it so it doesn’t raise suspicion in the dorm.

“so.”

“so?”

chris is leaning on the wall by the door, swims trunks pulled back up over his legs, hands wrist-deep in his pockets. grins, dimples cratering his cheeks. deja vu. he cocks his head sideways, asks, “ _whatever_ i want?” 

“listen that was like, in the heat of the moment. didn’t feel like being edged in the same place the pool chemicals are stored s’all.”

felix doesn’t see chris come up, feels him grab him around the waist to hug him instead, boxes him into his chest and whispers, “i’m holding you to it little one,” sealing it with a kiss to felix’s temple, quick. featherlight. felix doesn’t read into it, stiff in his arms. it hurts less if he does. chris lets him go. promises to give him the go ahead via text after he hits the showers and confirms everyone’s cleared out, poking his head out to look up and down the hallway. when he’s confident it’s safe chris slips out, closing the door the same time he says, “see you around lee,” marooning felix in the utility closet alone.

**Author's Note:**

> ♡ twt
> 
> ♡ cc


End file.
